Hell's Hollow
by MyMelancholyBaby
Summary: Sixteen year old Sam finds himself settling down with distant family in a quaint town called Star's Hollow. Intrigued by the love of a local girl, Sam doesn't notice that things are a little too cutesy to be natural until his father and brother show up. *On hiatus because I'm a lazy asshole*
1. Chapter 1

**Hey, kids. This is my first crossover. If you like it, please leave a review. I know where I'm going with it, but I don't think I will bother publishing if no one is interested. **

**I don't own any characters. If I did, I'd be busy rolling in my money right now. **

* * *

Sam Winchester had not intended to start his life in this small town this way. He had been trained since he was a baby to lie. He had been trained to be careful, and to never get too close to anyone.

As the woman at Stars Hollow High School flipped through his new student registration, he slipped up like he had never slipped up so bad in his entire, young life.

"Name?" the woman asked, looking over his forms.

"Dean." Said Sam.

Their father had gone through a lot of trouble to create fake birth certificates, insurance forms, and school records for him and his brother, Dean. Moving around too much would gain attention.

Changing schools a lot was usually a red flag. John Winchester hadn't wanted a paper trail. Well-meaning school administrators, who had social services on speed dial, noticed those sorts of things.

Initially, John had let them keep their first names, since trying to teach a small child, like a four-year-old Dean, to keep responding to new names became confusing and frustrating for everyone. Instead, John shuffled last names around, trusting that the boys would be able to skate by.

Yet, as the boys got older, John grew less adamant. Creating new papers every time they entered a new town got to be exhausting. As soon as the boys turned an age when they could smoothly handle their own identities, John trusted them to do so and busied himself with other things. Sam was sixteen now. He had inherited Dean's old documents. All they had needed was fudge some dates and change some photos.

So, "Dean Forrester" was really a Sam Winchester with a hand-me-down alias.

It wasn't the name where he screwed up. No, the alias was easy enough.

Sam had really screwed the pooch when he saw her.

Looking out the window of the administrator's office, Sam saw the most…intriguing… girl he had ever seen. It wasn't so much that she was beautiful, though she was, she very much was, it was that certain unidentifiable thing. Her attention was entirely focused on something in her mind. And Sam dearly wanted to know what that was.

His father had always turned a blind eye to Dean's indiscretions. Sam didn't know for sure, but he could guess that Dean carried on his sexual adventures the same way that his father did.

At her place, always, and for one night only.

But John could see that "one night only" was never going to be Sam's style, so he simply discouraged all romantic inclinations from him.

Perhaps a little less sensitively than the wide-eyed amorous boy needed, but John did the best he could. If his father was here right now, he would see Sam's eyes lingering on the girl and smack him on the back of the head. A reminder that those kinds of fantasies- not the sexual ones, John didn't care about those - but the ones with soft kisses and long conversations and intimacy, and _love, _were not fantasies that Sam was allowed to entertain.

But John wasn't there.

And so Sam let his eyes linger on the beautiful girl. And he let himself enjoy the fantasies of asking her what she thought. He let himself enjoy the idea of loving her.


	2. Chapter 2

"You're sure this is the place?" Dean Winchester asked his father from the passenger's seat of the 1967 Impala.

"Of course I'm sure," was John's annoyed response.

The two had entered the quiet Connecticut town and parked outside a diner, looking into the town square. John was in hunter's mode, aggravated at being interrupted as he searched the faces in the crowded park for his youngest son's.

When the pair returned from a hunt to the apartment John had rented by the week in Buffalo, New York, Sam had been gone for days. After a handful of phone calls, John was able to gauge that Sam was staying with his cousin's brother-in-law in a tiny town a few states over. By some miracle, Dean had been able to convince his father to let Sam stay where he was, at least for a little while.

Both recognized that Sam had never taken a shine to the hunting lifestyle the way that Dean and John had. Sam craved roots, and stability. He wanted to finish high school in one place. He wanted to play sports and go to prom and have a girlfriend. John hated not being able to know exactly where Sam was and what he was doing and saying to those around him, but he acquiesced Dean's pleas to leave Sam where he was.

He had met his cousin's brother-in-law at a wedding a lifetime ago. He knew where to call to check up on him. He took comfort in that.

But John grew more and more agitated and short tempered as time went on. Without discussing his plans with Dean, he simply turned onto the exit towards Hartford as the two left a hunt in Massachusetts one day.

If Dean didn't know his father better, he wouldn't be concerned that John wanted to visit his youngest son.

However, Dean did know John. And he knew that there was a very good possibility that John was going to show up and drag Sam kicking and screaming back into the Impala and put him back on the road to a lifestyle that Sam had never wanted.

Dean's eye caught a beautiful girl, walking through the snow. She looked like a princess out of a storybook; with dark hair and pale white skin and a pair of icy bright blues that stared out at the world with the general expression of quiet wonder. She was laughing at something that someone had said, looking over her shoulder at the source. A tree blocked Dean's vision, but as he watched the couple, he guessed by the way that the girl's face was angled upwards that she was talking to a man.

She leaned up to kiss the mystery boyfriend and Dean suddenly knew who was on the other end of those lips. He was hoping, praying, that his father hadn't seen the young lovers.

Of course, John was a hunter, and a damn good one at that. He had noticed.

"Son of a bitch," John sighed as he saw his youngest son break from the kiss and look adoringly at the girl in his arms.

The two walked, smiling like idiots, into the diner. Sam was so entranced in his girlfriend that he didn't see the Impala.

John and Dean looked at each other. That was their first clue that there was seriously something going on in that town.

* * *

**Okay, kids, that's our story time for today. Due to past experience, I'm inclined to keep my chapters short. If you just look at some of the word counts for my other projects you'll see that a 600 word chapter is wildly out of character for me. **

**The short chapters are a compromise. I'm sure what people would REALLY prefer is for me to simply write at a less languid pace. **

**Well, sorry. ****This is just my style. **

**I am more than happy to update frequently, I aim for once a week, but if you write a review (HINT HINT) I will be inclined to update more. **


	3. Chapter 3

"You have to admit, Dad, this is seriously not our style." Dean said, dropping his bag onto one of the two beds in the clean and floral bed and breakfast. Dean turned around to get a better look at his surroundings. "Seriously? More flowers? Have we ever been someplace where there have been fresh flowers?"

John didn't reply to Dean's observations. He pulled out his salt container and began to line the windows.

John was less than thrilled at their lodgings as well. John hated small towns and he hated bed and breakfasts above all else, through for entirely different reasons than his son.

Dean was young, and so he was proud. He had conceptions of masculinity and virility and fancied himself a bit of a badass. He was a twenty-year-old young man who had access to a sweet car and a leather jacket. Being holed up in a place for middle-aged couples to "unwind" (whatever _that_ meant) and yuppies to get married was seriously cramping his style.

John, however, was too old and busy to care about antique floral wallpaper and fresh tulips in vases on decorative tables that seemed to serve no purpose more than to hold them. What John hated was the way that the concierge made small talk and the manager asked about his visit.

The beauty of cheap motels was that nobody looked too close or asked too many questions, knowing that the answer would, in all likelihood, be less than illegal, immoral or just downright horrifying.

But at places like this tiny Independence Inn was riddled with overly friendly people with nothing more than a genuine interest in other people's lives. It made their job harder. John didn't want anyone to know that he was in town to check on Sam, because in tiny towns like these, everyone knew everyone. One inclination that John and Dean were looking for Sam would travel through the tiny town like wildfire, alerting Sam and whatever else was in this place.

Because there was something in this town, John could feel it in the air and in his bones.

John began to make a salt line around the door. Dean was not put off by his father's silence. After sixteen years, the boy was used to it.

"C'mon, there has to be a motel six or something off the highway. Lets just head back to Hartford. We can find something on the way." Dean pleaded.

"No, "said John, not looking up.

"But Dad," Dean started again, but faltered when his father shot him a warning look. Dean had never questioned his father's orders or second-guessed him. It was why they worked together so well.

"I want to stay close to Sam." John said, turning back to his task.

Dean was silent, but clearly wanted to say something. John took a deep breath.

"What?" he asked.

"Dad, let Sam be for a little while longer," Dean said. "He looks happy, Dad. Just let him stay that way for a little more."

John suddenly realized what Dean was asking him.

His oldest son had always been a buffer between himself and his youngest. Clearly it wasn't what John would have preferred, but he and Sam simply clashed on everything that there was to clash on. If John said left, Sam said right. If John said yes, Sam said no. If John said red, Sam said green.

Sam was young, and he was just very different from his brother's personality. While Dean seemed to be able to adapt easily, and even enjoy, his life on the road, as Sam got older, he became less and less able to hide the resentment he felt for never having the normal life that he saw others enjoy.

The truth was that John and Sam were very similar people. Stubborn. But they were like two positive magnets. So similar that they repelled each other and went diving off in different directions.

Dean, through some miracle, was somehow able to neutralize the ground between them, keeping them connected as a family. Even if it was a very distant family.

He must have taken after his mother.

John tried to find a kind way to respond to Dean's request. He so infrequently voiced his needs and concerns that John often forgot that he had them. He reminded himself to try and be a normal father for once. The kind of father that reassures his son that their family would stay together, not the other way around.

But he couldn't.

And so, as usual, John stayed stubbornly silent while Dean found a way to quietly reassure himself.

Comfort was simply one more item on the long list of things he had never been able to offer his sons.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean walked into the small diner, casting around for a seat. Finding no tables open, he made his way over to the bar.

He and his father had been watching the place for a week, trying to figure out Sam's general routine. In the mornings, he would get coffee at the diner with his girlfriend, then he would go to school and some afternoons he worked at the little grocery store.

Dean smiled to himself when he thought about how Sam had crafted himself a perfect little life in the perfect little town. Everything Sam had ever wanted, he had. Friends, neighbors who knew his name, a pretty girlfriend, a job, he was on a softball team for Christ's sake.

A flannelled man in a baseball cap came over to Dean's seat and looked at him expectantly.

"Coffee and…." Dean glanced at the menu, "The omelet, extra side of bacon."

"You got it." He said.

"Like your place." Dean said, looking around the minimalist diner. The longer he was in the town, the more he realized that every house, store, restaurant was pretty much the same. Wood floors, dainty wallpaper and flowers. Fresh fucking flowers everywhere. The diner was like an oasis of Formica surfaces and linoleum. "Less... floral… than the rest of the town."

The man in the baseball cap gave a wry smile.

"The town can do that to you. " he said as he poured Dean's coffee. "A little too cute sometimes. I swear, it feels like everyone in this town is a little nuts. Good people, though."

"Thanks." Dean said when his cup was full. He took a sip of the coffee. "Good cup." He said, raising his glass to the man.

The man nodded his head in a small bow.

"Dean" Dean said, reaching his hand across the counter.

"Luke." Said the baseball cap wearing man, taking his hand. "Funny enough, I know another 'Dean.' Not a common name, is it?"

"Is that so?" asked Dean. "I wouldn't know."

Luke shrugged.

"So, Dean," Luke continued, "What brings you to Stars Hollow? You don't seem like our normal tourist, so probably not 'pleasure.' That leaves business and family."

"I guess you could say a little of both." Dean said dryly.

Luke excused himself to attend to another customer.

At that moment, the tiny bell above the diner chimed and Sam walked in with his arm wrapped around the blue-eyed girl. He froze in his tracks as he saw Dean.

The girl jerked to a stop as well and looked questioningly between the two.

"Dean?" she asked, looking up at Sam.

"Hey, Dean," Dean said to Sam, emphasizing his name. "It's been awhile."

"Dean?" the girl asked again, squeezing Sam's hand. When he didn't reply, she turned to Dean.

"Hi, I'm Rory." She said sweetly, still a little perplexed at Sam's reaction to him. "How do you guys know each other?"

"Cousins," Sam rasped, "He's my cousin. I didn't know you were going to be in town."

Dean smiled widely.

"Well, we had a job over in Massachusetts. Dad thought we should stop by, say hi to his favorite nephew."

"Dad?" Sam rasped again, a small panic in his eyes.

"Well, 'Uncle John' to you, but yeah, same guy." Dean said, still grinning.

Luke walked over to the three stand awkwardly by the doorway.

"Dean and… uh…. Dean, there's an open table, he said, gesturing to a table by the window."

"Will you join us?" asked Rory.

"I would love nothing better." Said Dean. Sam was staring daggers at him, but Dean was enjoying himself.

"Rory, was it?" Dean asked as he walked over to the table, with them. "Well, Rory, how did you and my favorite cousin meet? Do you go to school together?"

"I actually go to a prep school near Hartford." Rory corrected him, taking a seat next to a very uncomfortable looking Sam. Sam obviously hated every minute of the conversation but could see no way to get out of it.

"Prep school. You must be pretty smart, then, " Dean said, ignoring Sam's dark looks and focusing instead on the innocently kind girl in front of him. "I bet you have colleges lined up and everything. I can see why my, "Dean turned to Sam and smiled teasingly, "cousin, Dean, here likes you."

"I don't know about all that," Rory said, blushing, "but I want to go to Harvard."

"Harvard?" said Dean, raising his eyebrows at Sam.

"Rory," said Sam, turning to his girlfriend, "What time is it?"

"Oh! Shoot!" Rory said, looking at her watch, "I'm going to miss my bus."

She placed a hasty kiss on Sam's cheek as she got up, struggling to pull her backpack over her shoulders.

"Let me walk you to the bus stop," said Sam, rising from his chair.

"No!" Rory insisted, "Stay! I'm sure you and your cousin have a lot to catch up on." She turned to Dean, "Are you staying in town for the Snowman Festival?" she asked.

"I wouldn't miss it." Dean said.

"Ok, good. I'll see you then. It was nice meeting you, Dean." Said Rory with a little giggle, "I'll see you tomorrow? Boyfriend Dean?" she asked Sam.

Sam nodded.

"You can go ahead and call me," Dean looked cruelly at his brother, "Sam. For simplicity sake."

"Ok. I'll see you both later." She said as she ran out the door.

They watched her yellow backpack bob up and down as she sprinted after the bus.


	5. Chapter 5

"Luke, cancel his order." Sam called.

Trying to look as calm as he could, Sam grabbed Dean's elbow and dragged him from the diner, throwing a wad of cash onto the table.

"C'mon, Sam, don't make a scene," Dean chuckled, unafraid of his brother's temper.

"I'm glad you're getting a kick out of this, Dean, but this is my life now. You need to tone it down."

"Your life? Is it?" asked Dean, "I thought we were your life, Sammy. We had a mission and we had a purpose and you left us. Without even a note. You know, Dad and I were up for twenty four hours? We thought you were _dead _Sam. Dad called everyone he knew. I've never seen him so screwed up. "

Sam refused to feel sorry for his father.

"Well, I'm fine. In fact, I've never been happier in my life." Sam snapped, "People know me, Dean. People care about me here. I've got Rory, and friends."

Dean looked as if Sam slapped him in the face.

"You left _me _Sam. _I _thought you were dead. And Dad and I have both always cared for you. You have your beef with Dad, and I gave up trying to salvage that relationship years ago, but you left me too. I didn't deserve that, Sammy. Not from you."

Sam's face fell.

"What's Dad going to do?" asked Sam, the hostility gone from his voice.

"I don't know. He seems sure that there is a job in this town."

Sam rolled his eyes.

"Of course. There is a job in the town I'm staying in. A job that I never saw. Give me some credit, Dean. If there were something here, I would see it."

Dean nodded, giving Sam the benefit of the doubt, but he didn't respond. Sam looked his brother over.

"You think there is something here?" he asked, skeptically.

"You don't think things are a little… off?" asked Dean.

"No!" Sam insisted, surprised that his brother would even think that. "The town is great."

"You don't find that weird?" asked Dean, "I mean, there aren't any cops. There isn't crime here. All the houses look the same on the insides. And wasn't there a festival just last week? Why is there another one?"

"I don't know, Dean, there isn't any crime because we're so far from the city. Maybe everyone shops at the same local furniture stores. People in the town are festive."

"And that doesn't seem weird to you?"

"Dean, I think you're seeing actual demons where there are only personal ones. You're mad that I left. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. But this is my home, Dean. I'm going to turn eighteen and I think I'm going to stay here."

"Ok, Sam." Said Dean, with a resigned shrug, "But you have to go see Dad. He's been worried sick. And you know how Dad expresses his worry."

"With alcohol and yelling?"

"The Winchester way."


	6. Chapter 6

John had grown impatient as he waited for Dean to come back to the inn with Sam. Dean had gone to find Sam early in the morning, where Sam took his girlfriend for coffee. It was now early afternoon and the boys still hadn't returned.

Dean had insisted on approaching Sam alone, at least at first, and as usual, John let him. They both had their expertise. John was the hunting expert, Dean was the Sam expert.

John shrugged his coat on as he headed downstairs, careful to not break the salt line and check that the "do not disturb" sign was in place.

The lobby was practically empty, which was surprising. Every other day that they had been in the inn, it was astonishingly full of people, just milling around. Dean had been right in the fact that the three rarely stayed at such friendly and upper price range quarters, but even John was sure that usual guests preferred to stay in their rooms rather than hang around and read in the lobby.

He added it to the list of things to investigate right after he was sure that Sam was OK.

"If you're looking for coffee, I've got some fresh right over here." Said a voice from the general direction of the check-in counter.

John turned to find the source.

"Our usual chef, Sookie, is sick. Her replacement is a regular Wolfgang, but he doesn't understand the importance of fresh coffee being available twenty-four seven."

The voice belonged to a striking woman. If it had been anyone else, John would have given a blunt, "no thanks," and not even stopped.

But as he saw the woman, he stopped short. She was beautiful. John had always preferred blondes, but the dark haired woman threatened to make a convert out of him.

But besides her attractiveness, something about the woman seemed vaguely familiar. As if he had seen her in a photograph.

"I get very unpleasant if I don't get my coffee everyday. Twice a day. Ok, you beat it out of me, ten times a day."

She spoke quickly and confidently, her shocking blue eyes reminding him of someone or something he had seen before.

"Anyways, I couldn't help but notice that you drink almost as much coffee as me. That's rare. We're like pandas, we should be scientifically observed. So, kindled spirits?"

She offered him a paper cup of coffee that she had obviously purchased from a restaurant or diner. She faltered a little at his stony silence, but still held the coffee out to him.

"I didn't poison it. Scouts honor."

John gave a cold smile and nodded as he accepted it. The second that he took a first swallow of the roasted coffee he felt himself physically and figuratively warm towards her. He rewarded her persistence with a genuine smile as he pulled the cup from his lips.

"There we go, much better." Said the woman, returning his smile "I'm Lorelei, by the way. I am the manager here."

She offered her hand to him.

"John." Was his curt reply.

If his taciturn response put her off in anyway, she didn't show it. Her smile widened.

"Well, John, if you're anything like me, it's a very Mr. Hyde sort of scenario until I get my caffeine. I thought there might be some sort of violent siege of the inn if we didn't have coffee. Mostly led by me."

John listened to her rapid dialogue with an amused expression.

At that moment, as gust of wintery wind rushed through the door as it opened. As John turned his head to glance at the newcomer, he had to rely on almost two decades of undercover gigs to keep his expression in check.

He realized why Lorelei seemed so familiar a second before the teenage girl who just entered opened her mouth.

"Hey, Mom," the girl said as a greeting to Lorelei.

"John, this is my daughter, Rory. Rory, this is one of our guests, Mr. John…"

"Winchester," John managed to say, surprising himself since his throat suddenly seemed to be coated with sandpaper.

"Hi." Said the girl, beaming.

John suddenly realized that he must have been staring, given the girl's uncomfortable stance.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly, "You just seem incredibly familiar. I must have seen you around town."

Rory thought for a second.

"I don't suppose you're in town with your son, Dean?" said Rory. She seemed to gauge from John's reaction that she was right. The girl turned to her mother, "Mom, this is Dean's uncle. I just met his son, named Dean as well. It's a little confusing, it must be a family name?"

"Yes, it is." Lied John coolly.

"Dean's uncle, huh? Well, that makes you just about family." Lorelei said, eyeing John with a new inertest. "We have a lot to talk about, then."

She had no idea.

* * *

**Hi, kids. **

**So, I admit, I've been neglecting this piece. Sorry. **

**Anyways, I'm about to neglect it some more, since I will be leaving the country tomorrow and have no idea if I will be able to (or want to) keep updating this while I'm in Guatemala.**

**I promise to be a better Fan Fictioner when my life takes a return to the dull and the ordinary when I get back in August, so if you're following, make the leap and subscribe so that way you can know when I return.**

**Deseo me "Buena Suerte" en Guatemala!**

**Hasta Luego!**


	7. Chapter 7

As Sam and Dean walked down the streets of Stars Hollow, Sam nodded acknowledgement to every town person they passed. Dean was damned if every single person didn't wave or call out a greeting to him, each giving Dean a curious look as he passed.

"Do you know these people?" asked Dean after the third person ran across the street just to say 'hello,' as they walked by.

"Not really." Said Sam. He looked over chuckled as he saw his brother's incredulous look. "It's Rory. People know _her_. You met her, you can guess why. She's practically a celebrity. She's never had a boyfriend before so…"

"Sam, what are you doing?"

"Walking with you to have Dad take a bite out of my ass."

"Seriously, Sam." Dean said, "She's never had a boyfriend? What do you think you're doing with her?"

"Don't tell me you're getting protective," said Sam, surprised at his brother's judgmental tone, "Since when have you cared about the girl's feelings? Didn't you tell me once that you were one-night champ?"

"Did I?"

"Yes. I distinctly remember because you were drunk. You came home at three after seeing a girl named Emily." Sam shook his head, "See? You don't even remember her name. You're one to talk about me and Rory."

"That's… different."

"Why?"

"Because it is, Sammy." Dean snapped, "Look, those girls knew the score. They didn't know my real name, or my real job, but none of them thought it was going somewhere. No one expected me to make them breakfast in the morning. This Rory girl… she isn't for you. She isn't for guys like us."

"I didn't know you felt that way." Said Sam, "But don't lump me into the same category as you and Dad. I'm not leaving in the morning, Dean. I love her."

Dean stopped in his tracks.

"Love?" he asked.

"Well, yeah." Said Sam, shrugging.

"Dad is not going to like that."

"What am I not going to like?" John Winchester asked, appearing quickly and quietly behind his sons.

"Oh, Jesus," Dean mumbled as he jumped.

"Close. I prefer 'Dad,' though, Dean." John said, looking over his eldest with suspicion." What won't I like? What were you two talking about?"

"Sammy's girl."

"Oh, yes, Rory."

"How did you know her name?" asked Sam. For the first time, John looked at his youngest.

Dean knew it would have been silly to think that the two would hug. Acknowledging emotions was one of those frivolous little things that his father avoided like witches. He had at least hoped that after almost six months apart, there might be a civil 'hello, father, sorry I ran away without so much as a note,' and a 'hello, son, sorry that I never gave your opinions and needs a second thought.'

Of course, after almost five years of this song and dance, Dean should have known better.

"Who do you think you're talking to?" asked John. "Her mother runs the Independence Inn."

"You're staying at the Independence Inn? That's a little out of character, don't you think?"

"I know, right?" Dean chimed in. John ignored him.

"Let me get this straight; So, this girl is calling you 'Dean' and calling Dean 'Sam.' We need to get this straight. We're going to the Snowball Festival tomorrow night. As a big happy fucking family. Understood?"

"It's the 'Snowman Festival.'" Corrected Dean. John looked at him as if he had never seen him before.

"Excuse me?"

"You said, 'Snowball' festival. That was last weekend. This weekend is the 'Snowman' festival." Dean continued, wavering a little under his father's incredulous stare.

John looked up to Sam, as if needing confirmation that his eldest son, Dean too-cool-for-floral-wallpaper Winchester, had just corrected his semantics on the intricacies of small town snow festival names.

"Anyways," said John, shaking his head as if hoping to make sense of Dean's new interest in small town community pastimes through sheer velocity. "It's going to be Lorelei, Rory, Sam," John looked at Dean, "Dean," John turned his gaze on his youngest, " and me. I'm still John, right?" he said it half jokingly.

Dean saw Sam purse his lips and cock his head in a gesture that he had long since dubbed the "bitch face" and recognized that Sam was absolutely seething. Their Dad wasn't dumb; he saw it and recognized it too, but he didn't seem to care.

Dean steeled himself for the longest snow themed festival of his life


	8. Chapter 8

"Oh, good, a barbershop quartet. This town is all kinds of normal." grumbled John to San and Dean as they ambled past the four fully-grown men in matching outfits singing. The three were on their way to meet Lorelei and Rory for the festival. The cold and crisp New England air was punctuated by bouts of singing and laughter.

"Just because it's different doesn't mean it's bad, Dad." Said Sam behind him. Sam had his hands in his pockets and his shoulders hunched slightly, giving him the expression of being in a constant shrug.

It was a new posture, John noted, that Sam had adopted since living in the small town.

Somewhere down the line, Sam had outgrown his brother and father. John wasn't really sure what to credit it to besides a weird surge of latent genetics. When he was younger and his first growth spurt sent him shooting a couple inches above his brother, Sam had the same slouched posture; a mixture of being unsure of what to do with his newfound altitude and a constant concern for Dean's feelings.

Dean had not taken the fact that his baby brother was now being mistaken as the elder of the two very well at all.

However, once Dean's confidence was restored as he discovered that his more compact muscle could still overpower his long and lanky brother in a fight, Sam had started walking upright. Even proudly. Though John had never seen him act on it, Sam was still a teenage boy and not immune to the attention his height afforded him from girls. But now, it was like the first summer of his growth spurt all over again, Sam, slouched over, trying to hide one of the most fundamental parts of his identity. Which brought John to the most concerning fact that he had learned so far.

"It means it might not be right." John asserted. "Speaking of different, Sammy, Lorelei says that you and Rory study together. She says that Rory helps you out. She tutors you."

"Yeah, so?"

"Why?"

John distinctly remembered being hounded about signing Sam up for "advanced" classes by teachers and staff from every single school that Sam had drifted through. But John hadn't needed school administrators to tell him that Sam was intelligent. John could tell just by talking to him.

Dean was smart, sure. But Sam was smarter. Sam with his books. His weird love of museums. His obsession with languages. The kid taught himself Spanish. Just because he was bored on the long car rides and Dean was going through a 'too cool for my baby brother' phase that consisted of either sneering at Sam or ignoring him.

Sam scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably and smirked.

"C'mon, Dad. I don't need to explain the logic of fibbing to a girl for an excuse to spend more time with her. "

"No," admitted John, "but… if I'd had a daughter I'd worry about her dumbing herself down to impress boys. I never thought that it would be something I worried about with two sons."

"Dad, it isn't a big deal."

"You're different, Sam."

"Yeah. The difference is that I'm happy."

The words stung as they hit John. Dean glanced nervously between the two; he took a bracing breath as he prepared to break up an argument.

At that moment, John saw Lorelei and Rory standing on the street corner. Lorelei saw them and smiled.

John lost his train of thought as he felt the familiar warmth rush through him, like taking a shot of whiskey, but only if whiskey had the same taste and texture as honey running down his throat.

This was very inconvenient.


	9. Chapter 9

**Wow, I'm so sorry kids. It has been forever and a half since I updated this. Thanks for waiting it out. You all rock to the power of infinity. Especially those who leave reviews. So. Leave reviews. Yeah? I'm very trusting, so even if you don't have an account with you can still leave one. If you leave reviews, I'll update sooner. Just saying.**

"Well, if it isn't the gun that won the west?" Lorelei said as she saw the three Winchesters approach.

"Lorelei, this my son, Sam." Said John, patting Dean on the shoulder, "And I believe you've met my nephew, Dean?"

"Yes, we've been acquainted," said Lorelei, smiling up at Sam, "He keeps our house safe from spiders, my hero."

Rory smiled and slid her arms quietly around Sam's waist under his coat, popping up on her toes to peck Sam on the lips. She smiled warmly at him, her arms absently rubbing up and down Sam's back.

"Hi," she said softly, "Missed you."

Sam bent down and kissed her again before shooting his father a rueful glance. He was surprised to see a soft sadness mirrored back at him.

Despite what Sam would yell at him during their all too frequent arguments, John had never intended to keep Sam from happiness.

Sam always claimed that John wouldn't let him join an after school club because he didn't want Sam to be happy. John wouldn't let Sam sleep over at a friend's house because he didn't want Sam to be happy. They couldn't have a dog. They couldn't have a house. They couldn't go play mini golf. In Sam's eyes, John said 'no' to be a controlling jerk.

Sam didn't realize that John didn't sleep the nights that he couldn't hear his sons in the other room. Sam didn't understand that John couldn't do his job, do what had to be done, until Dean called him to tell him that Sam had come home from school in one piece.

Yes, John was controlling. He was unyielding and unforgiving, but ever since 1983, when he had pulled Sam from the flaming crib, wiping his mother's blood from his face, John knew that in an instant, everything could be gone.

He could take Sam's yelling. He could take Sam's resentment. He could tolerate Sam hating him, as long as he _had_ Sam.

"So," said Lorelei, "Shall we?"

Rory and Sam, arms wrapped around each other's waists, led the group towards the lights and music of the winter carnival. Dean followed suit, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he followed the young couple, shooting a look over his shoulder at his father. He gave a knowing smirk at John as he looked between him and Lorelei. John shot him a look that told him, in no uncertain terms, that if he breathed _a word _he would find himself in some serious trouble. Lorelei, to her eternal credit, pretended not to notice.

"I hope you don't mind," said Rory suddenly, looking at Dean from around Sam, "I invited my friend, Lane."

"She sounds hot."

This time it was Sam who shot him the warning look. Rory gave a noncommittal giggle, turning back to face Sam, looking up into his face like he was utter perfection. Sam looked down at her in his arms like he still couldn't believe the miracle of her existence.

Two plump drunken women approached them excitedly. One wearing a clown's worth of make-up, the other was short and round, her voice was raspy as she tottered up to Lorelei.

"Oh, girls, you look lovely," her gestures were a bit too emphatic to pass for completely sober.

"Same to you Babette," said Lorelei, "Where's Morey, the lucky devil?"

"Oh, he's at home with the kids. I had to go out and keep an eye on this wino over here," Babette gestured over her shoulder to the larger woman who was practically eye fucking an amused looking Dean. Babette cocked her head to the side, pulling Lorelei away from John's side. In a voice that carried loud enough for everyone to hear Babette asked Lorelei, "And who's this new broody hunk of yours?"

"His name is John. He's Dean's uncle," whispered Lorelei, smiling down at the plump woman.

"That's not surprising. Those dimples, those eyes, that ass. Tell me, is it as firm as it looks?"

Dean couldn't pretend that he didn't hear Babette anymore as he let out a loud, bark of laughter that he tried to pass off as a cough. A smiling cough. John felt his face glow.

"I can't tell you from personal experience," said Lorelei.

"Eh, a girl can dream." Said Babette, "You'll tell me once you get a good look?"

"I'll call you the minute that firmness can be verified."

Babette gave a raspy cackle as she patted Lorelei on the arm, giving John an appraising look as she passed.

"C'mon, Patty." She yelled, "Taylor is going to announce the winner of the gingerbread house competition."

"Already?" asked Lorelei, "Does that mean that all the Stars Hollow punch is gone?"

"Not if you know where to look, sugar." Said Babette with a wink.

"I've got some firmness confirmed, right over here," said Patty, cupping Dean's butt beneath her palm.

"Oh, hey," said Dean, jumping a few inches.

"Oh, hey, yourself," said Patty suggestively. She pulled a card from her generous bosom and slipped it into Dean's back pants pocket. "Call me if you have anymore… firmness…" she gave Dean another firm squeeze, "You'd like verified."

Dean turned pink as Sam and John looked at the ground, away from each other, knowing that if their eyes met, they'd both break out laughing. It seemed that Dean had found his match. Rory and Lorelei both seemed amused but completely unsurprised.

"God, I think I love this town," said Dean, after Patty had left. He pulled the woman's card out from his pocket and inspected it, "'Miss Patty LaCosta," he read aloud, "Dance instructor, acting coach, tantric advisor."

Dean grinned and put the card back in his pocket.

"You're not serious," said Sam with an incredulous smile.

"Oh, _Sam _likes 'em big," said Dean, "_Sam _likes 'em small, _Sam _likes 'em all. Besides, older chicks? They know what they're doing." Dean concluded with a wink.

As the group stated to move towards the festival again, Lorelei grabbed John's wrist.

He looked, mildly surprised, down at their connected flesh, amazed that he couldn't see the fire that her touch sent through him.

"So," said Lorelei, in a conspiratorial whisper, "If Taylor is already announcing the gingerbread winners, that means that the punch is almost gone. For everyone else in this festival, it's last call. But see, you're with me, which means that you've got insider access."

"What is Stars Hollow punch?" asked John, apprehensively.

"Alcohol. Lots of it. If you want in, I'm going to have to swear you to secrecy."

"Oh, is that so?" asked John.

"Normally, we need a notary, a Rabbi, a few witnesses and a blood ritual, but," she said, looking at him in a way that made him tingle like a middle schooler with a crush, "We can work out an exception for you, last minute."

The flash of her eyes as she quietly came to the end of her statement, turned his schoolboy tingles of infatuation into something much more adult and needy in an instant. He felt himself lick his lips as his stomach gave a hopeful pull.

"Well," he said, hesitantly, "I'm glad you can be so accommodating."

"You have no idea," she said with a mischievous wink. She looked over John's shoulder to see that the other three were walking towards the festival. John followed her gaze.

Dean could keep an eye on the kids, he reasoned to himself as the bewitching woman before him linked her hand around his wrist, and led him to the side.

**Ohhhhh. Plot twist. NOW LEAVE ME SOME REVIEWS. I'm sad and needy.**


	10. Chapter 10

Dean could see how Sam could want to stay here. After a lifetime of being afraid of people, and monsters and ghosts this town was… completely devoid of evil.

He should have cared. He knew that when you couldn't see evil, that just meant that it was powerful enough to hide. But it was just so _hard_to care. And to care about not caring. It was a vicious cycle.

He and Sam stood to the side of the festival as Rory went to pick up Lane from her house a little while after they realized that Lorelei and John had vanished. The hunter in Dean told him to be worried. You don't go to some creepy perfect town that has sucked your brother up in some sort of Pleasantville alternate universe, then not freak out a little bit when your father, John Fucking Winchester, falls off the face of the earth.

But as he saw Rory and Lane, it was like every hunting fiber of his being disappeared. It was just so hard to care about demons and ghosts and _other people's_ stupid demon shit when there were two pretty girls walking towards them, with snowflakes in their hair and the soft string lights of the town festival behind them.

His dad was smiling and looking at a woman in a way that Dean thought he recognized as the way that John used to look at their mother. And Sam, for once, had everything he ever wanted. And Lane was very cute.

"Oh, wow. The Naughty School Girl. That was my favorite issue, you know." Said Dean, to Sam. He was referring to Lane's knee length skirt and sweater, her black hair pulled back into a pretty clip, her glasses casting sparkling reflections as she passed the lights in the street.

"Dude, don't start confusing porn and real life again." Said Sam but with a weak smile and a shake of his head.

"I'm not." Said Dean defensively, "I mean, "Asian beauty," sure. Maybe not "busty," but I can work with that. Anything more than a handful is a waste anyways, right?"

"Lane's a really good girl."

"I can be a good guy."

"You can _pretend _to be a good guy, like you can pretend to be a fed."

"I don't see the difference."

"Just… be nice. And keep your hands to yourself. Don't forget that you're twenty and she's sixteen and that's illegal."

Dean made a face at his brother but didn't push the argument as Rory and Lane came closer. Rory and Sam fell back into each other as though Rory's ten minute venture to get her friend had been a year long voyage. Lane gave him a stiff and polite smile, but didn't seem to know what to say. Dean could relate.

"So…" Dean ventured again, trying to break the uncomfortable silence between him and Lane, "You're in school. That must be… fun."

"It's not." Said Lane, bluntly.

Either the girl was the best deadpan that he'd ever met or she had no idea how funny she was. Her arms were crossed in front of her as she watched Rory and Sam a few feet ahead. Sam had his arm looped around Rory and they were talking, both with mile wide grins across their faces. Frankly, it was nauseating.

Lane seemed to reach the same conclusion.

"Sorry that you got stuck with me as your date." She said, with a resigned shrug "They're going to ditch us in five… four…. three… two…"

Dean stopped short. When Lane stopped and looked behind her to see why, he grinned and cocked his head towards a row of carnival games.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"C'mon. You said they were going to ditch us? I say, we ditch them."

Lane cast a nervous look over her shoulder to Rory and Sam who seemed oblivious to the fact that their party was flaking off in pairs. Lane continued to hesitate.

"They're just going to be staring moon eyes at each other all night anyways. They can't get into too much trouble. " Dean reasoned.

"Ok." Said Lane, breaking into the first smile that Dean had seen from her all night. He returned it and was pleasantly surprised that Lane blushed and looked away after a minute.

Dean and Lane resumed walking behind Rory and Sam for a few minutes.

"Ok." Said Dean, whispering conspiratorially into Lane's ear, "We go in five… four… three… two…" And Dean nudged Lane with his elbow and the two drifted off to the side of the festival. Lane glanced nervously over her shoulder at the distracted couple. They walked a few more paces and she did it again.

Once Rory and Sam were out of eyesight, Lane let out an awkward guffaw of laughter, surprising Dean next to her. Then she started laughing hysterically as she and Dean walked though the crowd.

"That was so fun!" she said, trying to contain herself and failing miserably. "I mean, I haven't had that much fun in..."

"A long time?" Dean guessed, more amused by Lane's reaction than their little PG high jinks.

"Ever. I've never had that much fun." Lane looked up at Dean, as if worried that her confession wold make him think less of her.

"We'll have to change that then, won't we?"

Lane bit her lip nervously, but then grinned. Dean stepped forward towards her and for a moment, her eyes lit up like she was dying for him to kiss her or to touch her or to do _something_.

"Crap!" said Lane, suddenly looking over his shoulder, "That's my mom's friend from church."

"So?"

"I'm not allowed to date boys."

"Gotcha." Said Dean, though instead of stepping away, he stepped forward, into Lane's space, pinning her back to the wall of the game booth and blocking her from view of passerby.

"What are you doing?!" asked Lane.

"Haven't you ever seen _James Bond?" _asked Dean, though he only had to murmur since they were suddenly so close, "This is some 007 shit right here."

"Oh my God." Said Lane somewhere between an exasperated sigh and a laugh.

"I think she's gone." Said Dean, glancing over his shoulder. He stayed put. Lane didn't push him away.

"Do you want me to move?" Dean asked, his breath warm and soft against Lane's lips.


	11. Chapter 11

**Reviews work! Thank you Guest Reviewer! Let this be a lesson to the rest of you. Sorry I've been updating so infrequently. Midterms are a total Beotch. I'll be updating a lot more frequently after Thursday when I finally turn in my 20 page term paper. **

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Lane didn't say anything as she looked up at Dean.

But Dean could recognize the signs of a sealed deal. Big, lust blown pupils, hitched breath, trembling hands. They were usually the welcome signs of a miracle when Dean was able to get into a bar and talk up some chick who didn't know (or perhaps, simply didn't care) how old he actually was. Now however, all he could hear was Sam telling him that Lane was a '_really good girl_' and nothing killed the mood quite like his little brother's voice in his head.

What was worse was that it coupled with his own words of warning that he had given Sam. Usually, girls didn't mind that he wasn't going to hang around to make them breakfast in the morning. They didn't care that he would go as quickly as he came, in and out of their lives forever. And Lane was a '_really good girl_' who probably wasn't the type to go for a quick romp in the Impala and then 'goodbye, see you never' in the morning. And she was sixteen. He was twenty. And that shit was illegal.

Stupid conscience.

Dean gave Lane a quick grin and stepped away from her. Lane looked away, disappointed and embarrassed by the new and cold space between them, her eyes watering with hurt tears. Dean sighed inwardly to himself as the regret hit him. He was a master at getting an older woman out of her clothes and into bed. He was woefully inadequate in gently letting a sheltered teenage girl down easily.

"Hey," he said softly, "Hey, none of that. We're going to have a good time tonight, Ok? I promised you fun, didn't I?"

Lane hesitated, but nodded, still looking embarrassed. They walked together a few more paces before Lane stopped suddenly.

"I've thought about it, and I've decided that I want you to kiss me." She said frankly.

"You really know how to sweep a boy off his feet." Said Dean, unable to even find the air in his lungs to let out a surprised chuckle.

"I think that I gave you the wrong impression a few minutes ago, when you asked if I wanted you to step away and I didn't say anything. I'll admit that I was surprised. But, I've considered it and I've decided that I want you to kiss me. "

"You considered it?" asked Dean, laughing to himself.

"After weighing the pros and cons, I think that I'd like you to kiss me. I feel that I should warn you, though. I've never been kissed before. I think I'd like my first one to be with you."

"Oh, Lane." Said Dean, gently, "I would be so very lucky. But…"

"I understand that you're older than me. And you have a really cool car. And that leather jacket is really…nice. I've decided that it's ok if you don't want to be my boyfriend. I'm not very cool or experienced and living with my mother wouldn't exactly make things easy for us to go out."

"Lane. I would be honored to be your boyfriend, I just…can't."

Lane rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. Despite her obvious efforts, she looked heart broken. And hurt. And embarrassed.

"It's ok. You don't have to lie, Sam.I understand why you don't want to date me. I just thought you might be ok with kissing me. " Her eyes watered again, "I can walk myself back home if you're bored. You don't _have _to keep me company just because you got roped into this."

"Why do you keep saying stuff like that?" asked Dean, "You 'understand' why I don't want to date you? Is it really so hard to believe that you're pretty and cool and people might want to hang out with you and be your boyfriend?"

"Call it sixteen years of reinforcement." Said Lane with a sad smile, "You try being friends with Rory. My whole life, everyone has liked her more. Teachers always liked her better. Boys always liked her better. Classmates always liked her better. She's prettier than me. She's smarter than me. She's sweeter than me. It would be ok if it was just one of those things, but all three? It's just not fair that she gets to be better than me at _everything_. Can't I have _one _thing for myself? Just _one?_"

"I think you're prettier than her." Said Dean, "I think you're just as smart, if not smarter than her. And sweetness? Overrated."

"It's just… do you ever feel like a supporting character? Like you're just there to watch them live their lives? Be there for them when they _want _you but stop mattering once they're out having a boyfriend or going to a fancy school? I feel like my life is a running joke and Rory is actually living." Lane paused as she gave Dean a long, analytic look, "Of course you don't know what it's like. Look at you. You're the protagonist. Protagonists don't kiss the supporting characters."

"You have no idea how often I feel like the supporting character," said Dean. He had to laugh to himself as Lane shot him a disbelieving look, "I've got this brother, see. He and my Dad, they love each other, right? But they can't function together. After my Mom died… it's just been the three of us. And ever since Sa… my brother… has been old enough to talk, he's been picking fights with our old man. And it's always _me_ who has to go between them. They both get to be mad and sad and hurt and all that jazz. I have to be cool and level headed. You know what would happen if I got pissed? Nothing. They'd just stay mad at each other and no one would talk or do anything until I got my shit together and made peace between _them. _You know the only time they ask what I think is when they're mad at each other and want me to side with one against the other?"

"I don't think you're the supporting character," said Lane softly, her eyes were warm and understanding as she looked into Dean's. "I think you're the hero. But the hero never knows he's the hero until the end of the book."

Dean's heart grew a little tighter as he looked at her. She understood. She understood him and Dean had lived his whole life thinking that no one would. Sam and his Dad, sure, they loved him. And he knew that he meant more to both of them than a simple peace bearer. They didn't even realize what they were doing to him most of the time, they were usually just so preoccupied being mad at the other they just sort of forgot that Dean was simultaneously a brother and a son.

And as for girls? None had ever looked at him the way that Lane was looking at him now. Like she _knew _him and wanted to know him more. One night stands? They usually weren't looking to hear his life's story. The only girls he had ever been with were slumming it, big time, with him. He was their fling. He was their dirty little secret. But Dean had never had anything else.

Dean had a minute to realize that what he was doing was a bad idea as he leaned forward into Lane. But this bad idea felt so good that Dean didn't care what Sammy would say. He didn't care that his Dad would get pissed. He didn't care that that shit was illegal because Lane was just so _right_.

He kissed her softly, no tongue, just closeness. Just intimacy. It was a little funny that this was a first for both of them. Lane had never been kissed. And Dean? Dean had never been _close_ and soft and warm and understood.

"We are nobody's supporting characters." He said softly after they broke away after a moment. Lane smiled and pulled him back into another kiss.

**Shit's about to get real in the next chapter. Just a heads up. I'll try to update once a week. Really, I'll try. Reviews reviews reviews please! **


	12. Chapter 12

**Hey, kids. So, kinda weird conversation topic, but I've never written a rated 'T' sex scene before. I'm generally a rated 'M' smut queen, myself. I tried to class it up for y'all. Also, you know what I love? Reviews. They give my life meaning. Please validate me.**

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John woke to the gentle crinkle of the expensive Egyptian cotton sheets of the Independence Inn. He opened his eyes fractionally and realized, with heart sinking horror, that he was not in his and Dean's room. His weapons, his son and his belongings were someplace out of his immediate reach and that was never a position that John liked to be in.

Despite the fact that he had no idea where either of his sons were, John felt relief that Dean wasn't in the room at that particular moment as he was very naked.

He ran a hand along his face as he tried to figure out what the _Hell_ had gotten into him the night before. Or, rather, what he had gotten into.

He and Lorelei had found what was left of the Stars Hollow punch and, after some truly impressive sweet talking, she had convinced a rather pushy thin man, Kirk, out of his sacred duty to keeping the punch safe.

He wouldn't be able to pin point exactly what they talked about, but he knew it was fast and hilarious on her part and, most likely, a series of chuckles and nods from his. He remembered walking back through the snow as Lorelei laughed at something and turned to face him, looking up expectantly for him to reply. Instead, and he would never be able to say what possessed him to do it, he pulled her into a gentle kiss.

That kissed had turned into a crushing battle of mouth against mouth and then hand against body as they pressed themselves together in an animal rush, still covered in their winter layers. When they broke for air, Lorelei's blue eyes were darker and her pale cheeks glowed pink as she looked at him. Then she took his hand and dragged him back to the hotel. Once in the deserted lobby, Lorelei pinned John to the wall and kissed him again, all tongue and hands like they had never broken apart. It was getting hot and frantic when Lorelei pulled away and bit her lip in a way that made John want to devour her. Again.

"I believe you have a room?" she said, mischievous and debauched.

"De—son. My son." John managed. It terrified him at how close he had been to simply nodding and throwing her over his shoulder like a caveman, running to the first private and secret place he had at his disposal. He had almost blew his son's cover and let Lorelei into a room with guns, salt and books on the occult and demonology.

Rookie mistake, and, even when he was a rookie, John never made rookie mistakes.

"Right," she said, looking as lost in lust as he was, "I might have a few" she joked coyly, leaving her place, pressed up against his form, to go behind the counter and take a room key off the wall.

"That's a little presumptuous," John whispered before Lorelei locked him in another all-consuming kiss. They broke apart with difficulty then half jogged up the stairs, giggling like teenagers sneaking around.

As the door shut them in the quiet dark room, finally alone together, they both started shedding their winter layers. Heavy coats hit the floor with muffled thumps, followed by shirts and boots.

Lorelei got there first and stood in front of the bed, watching John with sinfully hooded eyes. In three steps John had crossed the room and pulled her off her feet to meet his mouth. His hand was tangled in her hair and the other crushing the small of his back to his stomach before he laid her onto her back on the bed, never pulling her lips from his, even as he moaned her name

Getting laid on a hunt was nothing new, John wasn't exactly a monk. But he had been so close to blowing it all. Lorelei was a cool, smart, tough woman but walking into a room with a military grade arsenal and a strange man would make the hardest woman panic.

Lorelei emerged from the bathroom, buttoning her blouse and trying to smooth her dark curls into anything that didn't resemble sex hair.

"Hey," said John, smiling broadly at her. The woman was a force of nature, that was for sure.

The blue eyes that had been inviting as a warm tropical sea a few hours ago, were as cold as the arctic as she gazed at him now.

"Hey," she said stiffly, "The sun's coming up and I need to go."

_Right,_ thought John. She was a classy, pretty woman with a life and a kid and he was some drifter floating through town. He forgot the score for a minute.

That was terrifying as well, but for a more intimate reason than revealing his life as a hunter. He was a slum. A one night stand, nothing more, and he just about went and forgot. Another rookie mistake.

"Go do what you need to do."

"The maid is going to come in around nine, so…"

"Gotcha."

John stood and pulled his face back into his mask of stone.

The mask he wore for his sons. The mask he wore for the strangers who relied on him to protect them from the things they didn't even know they should be afraid of. The mask he wore for himself so he would never stop and think about how screwed up he really was. For the first time, it wasn't a comfort. It was a burden.

John found his jeans and tugged them on, casting around for his belt, not looking at Lorelei. She had her hand on the door handle before she turned and looked at him.

"I never do this sort of thing, you know." She said.

Ah, the 'I never sleep around' speech of the morning after. John knew it well enough to recite from memory.

"No judgment." Said John, still not looking at her. It would be so much easier if she wasn't so perfect.

"I mean, I do _this_," she said gesturing between herself and him, "But not with… but not with married guys. I don't know what came over me, and it won't happen again."

John looked up at her as she said the last part.

"I'm not…" he started, then stopped short as she looked pointedly at wedding band with a face that said, quite plainly, that she wasn't born yesterday.

"Look, I didn't exactly ask. You… you live your life, make your decisions, whatever. I'm just not going to be one of those decisions anymore. I'm too old to be the girlfriend of a married guy."

She turned quickly and opened the door, ready to make her run for it.

"My wife died in 1983." Said John and Lorelei froze. She still didn't look at him, but she froze. "There was a fire and some foul play. She was murdered. I keep wearing my ring because they never caught the thing that did it to her. She hasn't gotten justice yet. I… I sometimes forget that I'm wearing it. I just know when I'm _not._ It's kind of… it's kind of like Mary. I'm always thinking of her, but sometimes I forget that she's always there, in the back of my mind. It's just really obvious when she's not there… I probably don't make any sens—"

Lorelei cut him off with a gentle kiss.

"I'm sorry." She said, "I'm so sorry."

"I'm sorry that you thought that I…"

"Let's not talk about it." She said quickly, "Let's start over." She held out her hand, "I'm Lorelei Gilmore, unwed teenage mother."

Despite her efforts, her black curls stood at odd angles, tracing the trail his fingers had run through them. She was holding her boots in her hand and John was only in his jeans and his thin undershirt.

He grinned and clasped her hand in his. He shook it formally, "John Winchester, widower."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance,"

John's eyes travelled down her body, long and lean, then back up to her mussed hair and bitten lips.

"The pleasure is all mine," he said, "Can I interest you in some breakfast?"

"I really do have to get back to Rory," said Lorelei, and she really did look sorry about it. _Shit,_ John thought, _Dean. _How did he keep forgetting about his sons? They were the only reason he kept going, after all.

"Lunch?" Lorelei offered.

"I'm driving up to Hartford," he said. Bobby had come to town on a nearby hunt and John said he'd meet him halfway at the state capital.

"Hey, I'm actually running some errands up there this afternoon." Said Lorelei. "Wanna meet for lunch up there?"

"Yeah," said John, smiling, "Yeah. It's a date."

"Just you remember, Mr. Winchester." Said Lorelei, the sparkle in her warm ocean eyes shining once again, "I'm a respectable sort of lady. Don't think you can get fresh with me on our first date."

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**What's that? That little box right there at the bottom? Do you see it? Hmmm. It is a tiny box with an even smaller blue box that says 'post review.' I wonder what that could mean... you know what? Why don't you try it out? Tell me how it goes. New experiences are good for you, you know. **


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